


On His Knees For Her

by leashy_bebes



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Domme/sub, F/M, foot/shoe fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-26
Updated: 2011-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-01 17:11:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leashy_bebes/pseuds/leashy_bebes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something about Morgana's pale feet in patent leather heels that takes Merlin's breath away every time. Modern AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On His Knees For Her

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my foot/shoe fetish square at kink bingo. Also has Domme/sub vibes. Thanks to [](http://hermette.livejournal.com/profile)[**hermette**](http://hermette.livejournal.com/) for the beta.

Morgana catches his eye from across the room and Merlin freezes, stumbling over his own feet. She has that look in her eyes, that curve to her lip that always reaches right inside Merlin and twists him up. He lets his gaze drop to her feet and sees _the_ shoes, dark patent leather the velvety blue colour of a moonless night. There's a sharp spiked heel that gives him pause, his heart beating uncomfortably hard in his chest. Best of all is what he can see of her pale feet, all wrapped in sheer silk stockings.

His eyes stick to the delicate shape of her ankle and as he watches she moves away, dark purple dress swaying around her calves. Merlin can't hear the _click-click-click_ of her heels as she walks but he can imagine it. His mouth feels dry, like he's already on his knees in front of her. If he tries, he can taste the leather and grit on his tongue.

"Hey, spaceman!" Gwaine calls, shaking Merlin's arm. "Earth to Merlin?"

Merlin pushes the thoughts – not away, but aside. It's been far too long since the last time, too long to banish the idea of it completely. It's a thrum in the back of his head all through the party – _tonight, tonight, tonight_. The times he speaks to Morgana are even worse. He flushes and his hands shake so badly he has to shove them into his pockets. He knows the trembling won't stop until he gets to his knees with his hands behind his back and hears Morgana say, _you may begin_.

The night drags on and on, a blur around him. Arthur, Gwaine and Leon get into a wickedly competitive drinking game that ends with Gwaine hanging off a semi-conscious Leon while Arthur regales them both with stories neither of them seem to follow. Merlin's barely drinking, keen to keep a clear head, but he's too distracted even to laugh at them. It seems that every time he looks around Morgana is there, pale and flawless. Her hair is caught in a knot at the back of her neck, one loose curl just brushing her cheek.

Finally – Jesus, _finally_ – the party starts winding down. Leon's fully asleep now, and Arthur and Gwaine's competitive drinking has turned into competitive karaoke, so he's not worried about being seen following Morgana from the party. He _is_ a bit worried when Morgana stops on her way out to speak to Vivian. Morgana doesn't even _like_ Vivian, and Merlin is fairly sure that she's only doing it to make him wait. Merlin chews on the ragged edge of his thumbnail and waits until Morgana and Vivian laugh, kiss the air next to each other's cheeks and part.

He follows her from the room and fetches both of their coats. In a moment of idiocy, he tries to do the chivalrous thing and help her into her pale grey blazer. She looks coolly amused as she pulls the jacket from his hand and slips into it, smoothing down the lapels.

"Thank you, Merlin."

It's not quite laughter in her voice, but it's not far off either. She always makes him feel like the ground's falling away from beneath his feet.

They leave Elena's house and Morgana's driver pulls up to the curb, perfectly timed. That's another thing; even though he's known them for years, even though feels guilty for it, he can't help feeling uncomfortable around Arthur and Morgana's level of wealth. It's just one more thing that puts him on a back foot around her. Honestly, she makes him feel like a clumsy, fumbling child. The drive doesn't take long and Merlin doesn't even register most of it because Morgana retrieves a gold cigarette case from her handbag and lights a slim cigarette, cracking the window slightly to let a stream of smoke out into the night.

Her penthouse suite is dazzling, of course, all modern elegance and understated luxury. Merlin doesn't have eyes for anything for anything but Morgana, dimmed lights glinting off her hair, the graceful shadow she casts as she leads him through the flat to the living room. Merlin's already going to his knees when she sits on the edge of an armchair with her feet together, toes slightly turned in. Maybe it's intentional, maybe not, but the positioning makes the leather catch the light beautifully, like a streak of moonlight on water at midnight. Even though the cream carpet is thick, the floorboards underneath it are hard on Merlin's knees. He feels shaky and on-edge already, flushed, so he pulls off his shirt, exposing his skin to the cool air and Morgana's sharp eyes.

She lifts her chin and beckons him forward, leaning back in the armchair so her long, pale legs are extended in front of her. Merlin's fingers feel thick and clumsy as he reaches out and touches her calf, skimming down over soft silk to her ankle and the high, delicate arch of the strap on her shoe. The silver buckle is cool under his fingers and he feels it for a moment, lets the prong press into the meat of his thumb.

Morgana twists her foot in his grip and says, "Not yet. Hands."

Merlin drops his head for a moment, forehead resting on Morgana's knee as her fingers tangle through his hair, nails scratching briefly at his scalp. He straightens up again and tucks his hands behind his back. Morgana raises one foot, bending her leg from the knee. Merlin tries not to be wholly obvious about it when he stares at the shadows between her pale legs and the dark purple skirt of her dress. From the way Morgana laughs, and the playful wiggle of her foot as extends it towards him, he wasn't so subtle as he'd hoped.

With practiced reverence, Merlin presses a kiss to the softly pointed to of Morgana's shoe and she murmurs approvingly. With his lips slightly parted he drags the kiss along the side of her shoe, Morgana's foot moving along with him to give him access. It tastes of cool leather and a faint trace of polish, warming under his mouth as he works. He gives a flat-tongued lick, the leather so smooth it's almost hard to stop. He can't resist mouthing at the D on top of her foot framed by purple leather, smooth silk of her stocking heating under his lips.

There's a thud as Morgana works her other shoe off and lets it drop onto the floor. Merlin doesn't stop, pressing a kiss to her ankle before his mouth slips daringly up her calf. Her toes nudge against his crotch and he huffs out a breath that clouds the leather of her shoe until he smudges it away with his lips.

"Morgana – " he says numbly.

"Shh," she purrs, and behind his back Merlin wraps his left thumb and forefinger tightly around his right wrist, squeezing hard enough to feel the sting of his own nails.

She means to make him work for it, earn it. Merlin moans softly and Morgana hums out an appreciative sound, languid grace in every line of her body as she settles further into the chair, her ankle a fragile-looking arch as she bends her foot into his grip.

Merlin is never usually one for patience and self-control but this – for this he will wait as long as Morgana decides he must.

**Author's Note:**

> Posted at LJ [here](http://leashy-bebes.livejournal.com/264487.html)


End file.
